Quintra’s light seeped into the camp in thin, broken bands, turning the dew into scattered sparks across moss and fern. The hunters woke like people who didn’t have the luxury of slow mornings. Boots scraped against the ground, gear shifted and someone was already swearing at a stubborn strap.
Garrick’s voice cut through the bustle. “Breakfast, Lads and Lasses, let’s not take all day.”
A low fire had been coaxed back to life. Bread passed from hand to hand, followed by strips of dried meat. Kaelen sat with her back against a log and looked much better than she had the previous day. Rendall hovered near her like an annoyed shadow, his eyes repeatedly returning to the place where the bear had torn the side of her tunic.
Suraia accepted a piece of bread and held it with both hands. As usual, she stayed close to Thorn. It was partly habit and partly comfort, but the forest also felt less large while the Ee’dornil sat beside her.
Vasha had already been scouting with Darron. The two returned while the others ate, the Oakhai’s tail flicking behind her and her ears angling towards every sound around the camp.
Garrick waited until the ebony skinned woman sat down. Then he dropped a folded piece of paper onto the log between them with a heavy slap.
“Right,” he said, his eyes gleaming with purpose. “Now. The reason we’re here.”
The dwarf unfolded the paper and flattened it with both hands. The “map” was crude: charcoal lines, sharp angles for hills and a few marks that might have been streams if one had enough imagination. A bold X looked as though it had been punched into the paper by stubbornness.
Vasha leant closer with open curiosity. “That is… charming.”
“It works,” Garrick corrected. He tapped the paper. “I bought it from a lowlife who was all too happy to be rid of it.”
“He was stinking of booze,” Garrick grunted. “He had fear in him, aye. Claimed he drew the map himself when he went there with another expedition. Said it was very real, there were long forgotten ruins down there. Said there were riches.”
His thick finger dragged along one of the charcoal lines and stopped near the X. “He also said something happened. Did not elaborate. He fled, and now he won’t go back. Ever.”
Thorn kept his gaze upon the map. “If he was too afraid to return, why sell the location?”
“Coin,” Garrick said, as if the answer needed no ceremony. “He needed it. I wanted to know. Simple.”
Vasha’s ears angled forwards. “And you believe him.”
“I believe he was there, Lass” Garrick replied. “Fear like that is not easy to fake. We have been wandering Lyonne forest for days, matching what we could to what we saw. Then the bears happened. But now—” His eyes flicked towards Thorn and Vasha. “—you two look like people who actually know how to read this forest.”
Suraia watched Thorn while he studied the map for another moment. The druid didn’t hurry to answer. His eyes followed the uneven lines before he finally raised his gaze to meet Garrick’s.
“You seek ruins for coin,” Thorn said.
“Aye,” Garrick replied without shame.
“And if your presence in those ruins disturb the balance of the forest?” the Ee’dornil asked.
Garrick shrugged. “We’ll step lightly. We take what’s valuable. We leave. We have no interest in disturbing any balance, just taking treasure.”
Thorn’s expression didn’t change, but the air around him seemed to settle. “You do not understand balance.”
“Maybe not,” Garrick said. “But I understand agreements. You saved Kaelen. I offered you a place by the fire and a share if you help. That is what this is.”
The large elf looked briefly towards Suraia and then towards Vasha before returning his attention to the treasure hunter.
“We accept your offer,” the Ee’dornil said.
“All right then,” Garrick said, satisfied. “Eat. Pack. We move when Quintra clears the branches.”
By midmorning, little remained of the camp. The fire had been smothered, the tents had come down and the hunters’ gear had settled onto their shoulders. When the group moved north, the forest soon swallowed the hollow behind them as if they had never been there.
Their line changed whenever the terrain narrowed or widened. Garrick remained near the front with his map, while Kaelen walked stubbornly upright beside him and Rendall never let his sister move far beyond his reach. Darron drifted towards Vasha whenever the path allowed, polite and attentive, but always just close enough to be noticed.
Elira walked more quietly than the others. Her eyes swept across the undergrowth with a watchfulness that wasn’t hunting. Malrik had put away his book, though his fingers absently tapped against a pouch on his belt as if he were counting his thoughts.
Suraia kept close to Thorn. Her bag tugged at her shoulder and the new pouches from the dead healer’s kit hung from her belt. She watched the ground and chose each step carefully whenever roots rose through the soil or loose stones shifted beneath her boots. Every now and then she stopped to pick some berries or collect some nuts.
The first part of the day passed in the steady rhythm of travel. Boots pressed through fallen leaves, branches moved aside and the light shifted above them as the forest thickened and thinned. They no longer followed the path of Quintra and Denday. Instead, Garrick’s map led them north and deeper into Lyonne Forest.
As Quintra climbed, the ground gradually levelled and the roots became less tangled. The easier terrain allowed the hunters to spread into a looser line. Their boots crunched through needles while fragments of quiet conversation drifted between them.
Kaelen fell into step beside Vasha with casual confidence. “So,” she said, glancing sideways, “is it true Oakhai sleep with one eye open?”
Vasha’s ears flicked. “I wouldn’t know, do they?”
Kaelen grinned. “I’m just saying. You lot always look like you’re about to pounce.”
The Oakhai snorted softly. “Maybe it’s because people keep comparing us to wild animals.”
Kaelen’s smile widened. “All right, all right. Friendly curiosity.”
“Mm,” the ebony skinned woman hummed, then shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “It’s fine. Most folk don’t meet any of us. They fill the gaps with nonsense.”
The female half elf lifted both hands and chuckled as she drifted ahead again. “You should hear what they make up about half elves.”
Vasha gave her an easy grin in return, light and careless, but her tail flicked once as she rolled her eyes. Thorn watched Kaelen move away. He said nothing, though his jaw had grown tense.
Suraia glanced uneasily towards the hybrid woman, who gave her a playful nod. The small gesture was enough to make the human woman return her attention to the path.
It was just past midday when they stopped in a small open patch. Suraia lowered herself onto a piece of sunlit grass beside Vasha. She looked better than she had the previous day, although she rubbed her eyes as the tiredness left by the healing caught up with her again.
The curly redhead sorted through the berries and nuts she had collected along the way and offered some to her companion. Movement near the edge of the clearing drew her attention before either of them began eating.
A squirrel appeared between the plants, followed by another. Both were small, grey-brown and bold-eyed. They crept towards the two women in cautious steps, their whiskers twitching and their noses lifted as they sniffed the air.
Suraia’s face softened. She slowly held out one hand, palm upwards, with several nuts resting upon it. “It’s okay,” she whispered softly.
The nearest squirrel edged closer until it was almost within reach of the offered food. The human woman held her breath, afraid that even breathing too loudly might scare the little animal away.
A rock cracked into the ground beside the squirrel.
The animal bolted. Before Suraia had lowered her hand, another rock struck the ground and sent the second squirrel fleeing into the undergrowth in a blur of panic.
Laughter broke out behind them. Rendall’s was the loudest, with Kaelen’s sharp amusement joining it. Malrik made a satisfied noise as though nothing of importance had happened.
Suraia’s hand remained outstretched for one heartbeat. Then she lowered it, her cheeks bright red as she began studying the grass. Beside her, Vasha went very still.
Thorn’s voice cut through the laughter, low and calm but heavier than it had been before. “Do not.”
The laughter stumbled and died.
Rendall shrugged, his grin faltering. “It was just a bit of harmless fun.”
Kaelen lifted one shoulder. “They’re just squirrels.”
“Do not throw rocks at living creatures just for your own amusement,” Thorn said. His posture remained controlled and measured, but he was unmistakably displeased.
Garrick grunted. “They’re fast little buggers. No harm done.”
“They are part of this forest,” Thorn said, and his calm made the air feel tense. “Do not make cruelty into sport.”
For a moment, nobody spoke. Even the birds seemed to pause their chirping.
Garrick’s eyes narrowed before the dwarf gave a short, dismissive grunt. “Fine. No more rocks. Happy?”
Thorn didn’t answer or nod. He turned away and walked towards Suraia and Vasha, helping them gather the human woman’s bag before the group continued north.
By late afternoon, the shadows had grown longer. They made camp in a hollow where the surrounding trunks sheltered them from the wind.
The hunters worked with practised speed. Tents went up and stakes were hammered into the ground while Garrick directed everyone with blunt efficiency. Vasha and Darron left together to hunt for meat.
Suraia moved near the fire and began preparing something to eat. Elira crouched beside her with a knife and started helping without being asked, her movements quick and confident.
“You are a cook as well as a healer?” the elf asked with genuine interest.
Suraia’s cheeks warmed slightly as she gave Elira a hesitant smile. “I… I do know a bit about cooking… yes.”
The young elf smiled back at her. “That is better than most here, I’ll gladly help you.”
A little way from the tents, Thorn built their living shelter. Branches wove together beneath his hands, leaves layered over them and the moss rose into beds inside. An ivy curtain closed the entrance once he had finished.
When Quintra rose the next morning, the shelters came down and the group continued north. The forest grew thicker around them, forcing the hunters closer together whenever bushes and low branches crowded the way. Garrick repeatedly unfolded his map, while Thorn studied the land ahead and corrected their direction whenever the charcoal marks were unclear.
Throughout the second day, Darron spent more time beside Vasha, asking about the draw weight of her bow, the arrowheads in her quiver and how she followed movement through the canopy. Vasha answered while Darron listened attentively.
Another evening brought another camp, followed by another morning of packing and walking. By the third day, the repeated tasks had found their own order. Tents rose and vanished, meals were prepared and the path continued north. The changes in the forest were slower: thicker growth, less open ground and fewer long stretches where the group could walk side by side.
Late that night, Vasha shared the final watch with Darron. Thorn had withdrawn into the living shelter earlier to rest, while the two archers remained near the fading fire until their watch was over.
When the Oakhai woman quietly pushed through the ivy curtain, she found Thorn still awake beside Suraia. The redheaded woman slept curled against him with his black cloak drawn over her shoulders. The Ee’dornil’s arm rested lightly around her shoulder, and one of Suraia’s hands lay loosely within his. His thumb moved over her knuckles in a slow, absent rhythm.
Vasha’s ears lifted at the sight. Thorn’s gaze found her at once.
“She was having night terrors again,” he said before she could speak. “This settled her.”
The Oakhai looked at Suraia, peaceful now, then back at the Ee’dornil. “I didn’t even say anything,” she said with a soft chuckle.
“You were going to,” the large elf replied.
“Mm,” Vasha hummed. Her tail flicked once. “I was only going to say you’re very dedicated to your duties as her guardian.”
Thorn’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Go to sleep, Vasha.”
“Of course, Master Thornwing,” the Oakhai replied with amusement before dropping onto her moss bed to settle in for the night.